What would you do if I was to die tomorrow
by DemonRogue
Summary: War changes a person, and Harry Potter is no exception, as Draco finds out. Dubious suiciude depending on how you look at it.


Thanks to Strife for beta-ing this for me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the Harry Potter books. J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter characters, places, etc., mentioned from the book series.

"What would you do if I was to die tomorrow?" the whispered statement filled the air, shattering the calm and peace, and hanging heavily between the two lost souls, who had found each other in the midst of chaos.

A breath was inhaled sharply, just as sharply as the eyes that stared at his companion who had uttered that statement. Exhaling slowly, the boy turned back to looking at the dark sky and glittering stars; turned away from the sharp pain his chest felt at those words, said by the other boy.

"Nothing, because you won't die," the words were spoken evenly, calmly, like winter water not yet frozen, but completely still anyhow.

"You don't know that," the first boy spoke again, his voice thoughtful and chiding, cynical and harsh all at once, and delivered in a soft tone. There was a shift of fabric, a sigh, and then silence again. "Anything could happen, you know. We've talked about this." The tone was changed this time, sounding tired.

Grey eyes flicked to the long, lean form beside him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. "You won't," soft and firm, the tone brooked no argument. "You're strong and smart and quick with a wand. You _won't_ die."

Lids lifted slowly, and green eyes looked steadily at the figure beside him. Eyes that had once radiated excitement and life were now flat and always guarded, even around him. Silence ensued once again, but it rang with the feeling, as if words were spoken.

_You can't disillusion yourself forever, you now,_ it was saying, with a sadness that mirrored the emotion in green eyes. _You can't deny a valid truth and option to what could happen, Draco._

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The field was filled with the sounds of screams and shouted spells, the smells of burnt flesh and blood. Lights from spells whizzed through the air, sometimes hitting its intending targets and sometimes not. The ground was like a river of blood; the thick, red, metallic smelling liquid covering so much of the grass and dirt, in large puddles. The sky was dark and grey, very fitting for the scene of battle that waged on under thick, rolling clouds and through tempest-like winds.

_Its madness,_ Draco thought, as he shot off another spell. _Complete and utter chaos, is what it is._ And that's what it was, really. There was nothing structured about it, it was every witch and wizard out there fighting for their lives, for survival, for hope of a better future. This war had long since ceased being about blood status. It was about one madman's insane drive for power and his sycophant followers, too caught up in the fervor, to realize what they began fighting for was only a distant memory. And it was about one boy – now a man – who survived a curse that should have killed him, fighting for different reasons than he had started out with. It was a hopelessly pointless war, and they were currently fighting a hopelessly pointless battle. Only this battle was _the battle_, the one that would end it all, and by some sick and twisted turn of fate, it was Halloween that the battle was taking place. It was poetic irony, and it was a bitch unto itself.

And the battle raged on.

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_Draco looked at the figure sitting calmly on a parapet in the Astronomy Tower and staring at the night sky, silently. The full moon cast a glow around Harry, giving him a ghostly appeal that was both frightening and beautiful. Draco wanted to reach out and touch him, make sure he was real, but was afraid he would break into a thousand tiny pieces and be swept away with the light wind. Draco knew it was ridiculous, though. He remained quiet and waited._

"_It's never going to stop, you know," Harry said quietly, not looking away from the sky. "The killing, the rapes, the senseless fighting; even when one battle ends, another one is just on its heels. It's a downward spiral of death, mayhem and destruction."_

_Draco agreed, but said nothing. That is what this war had become, after all. The wizarding world was slowly crumbling apart. Instead of Muggles being its downfall, it is its own kind, slowly chipping away at their world. There was nothing for it, though. Voldemort was hell bent on his quest for power and purity and he was an almost unstoppable force. Almost, except for the young man who sat before him._

_As if reading his mind, Harry spoke again, ""Do you know what it feels like to know you're the only one who can stop a madman? To know that it all comes down to you and him when, really, all you want to do is runaway from all of it?" the questions were all delivered in a soft voice with a flat, but philosophical tone. _

_Draco moved to sit on the ground beside Harry, instead of on the parapet itself. He looked up at the seventeen year old, who was carrying a weight no one his age should carry. What kind of divine beings made prophecies of such a nature for just born infants? It was ludicrous, but if asked, Harry would just stare at you with that stoic, bitter and cynical stare of his. There was no question in Draco's mind that Harry Potter did not like playing the hero. No one could have such a jaded view of the world, and still want to save it, in Draco's eyes. _

"_I wish I never learned about magic. I wish I had grown up never knowing, especially with this being my fate," Harry murmured, and turned to look at Draco, for the first time. Draco looked back, struggling not to flinch. Harry's eyes always disturbed him nowadays, as they were no longer that bright green that had captivated many girls – and even some guys – at Hogwarts. They were now dark, faded and dead – like jewels that had lost their sparkles. As corny as that sounded, it was true. Harry barely ever smiled – a true smile – anymore, and you were in luck if you ever saw any emotion in his eyes. Harry's lack of expressions put the best Malfoy mask to shame. _

"_You don't mean that, Harry," Draco said finally, quietly. "Magic is in your blood. You practically radiate with it."_

_Harry gave a sharp bark of laughter that startled Draco a bit. "Yes, and what has my blood gotten me?" Harry sneered, his voice full of so much bitterness, it almost made Draco cringe. Suddenly, though, Harry's face regained its indifference and he looked out over the grounds of the castle. "What would you all do if I was to jump today?"_

_Draco looked at Harry closely, at this question. Draco knew that 'you all' meant the wizarding world, and he also knew that they would probably be driven to slavery, if not destruction, if the prophecy was to be believed. And Draco believed it. Purebloods didn't take prophecies lightly; even when they came from someone as well known as Sybil Trelawney. She may have been a huge fake most of the time, but her blood line wouldn't leave her without a touch of the gift, not with the most famous seer ever being, her ancestor. They would all be doomed if Harry chose to jump then and there._

"_Would you jump, even knowing you'd be dooming hundreds of people to death? No, don't answer that. I already know," Draco said, because he did. He didn't even know why Harry continued to fight this war. "Why do you continue to fight if you have no will to do so?"_

_Harry was quiet for a long time and Draco thought he wouldn't answer. Ever since they became friends and he got to know Harry – this Harry, as he believed the other was almost fully gone by then – Draco was one of the few who could tolerate being around him. Harry's cynicism and negative outlook always disturbed and unsettled people. This wasn't the Harry they remembered, but, it was the Harry they helped create, in a sense. Great expectations bred a cold, bitter and jaded young man, but no one wanted to take the blame for doing so. _

"_Why?" the word was said quietly, startling Draco from his internal contemplations. He looked to Harry, who looked back at him with his dull green eyes. "I wish I knew, Draco. I wish I knew," Harry's voice cracked as he repeated it, and Draco stood at this sign of emotion, wrapping his arms around Harry. He had no words of comfort and reassurance for the black haired young man before him, so he just held Harry, as they looked out over the grounds together._

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Draco fought his way across the field until he had Harry in his line of sight. The black haired man was fighting two Death Eaters on his course to his ultimate goal: Voldemort. Draco watched Harry fight with a cold passion that was so different from _before_, but also intensely beautiful. Harry moved with quick, deadly accuracy and had the two Death Eaters down in no time. From there, Draco watched him move, striding determinedly towards Voldemort, who stood slightly back from the fighting. Something in his chest tightened, something in him urged him to move closer, to go to Harry and stand beside him. It pulled with an intenseness that was startling. But Draco didn't question it.

He made his way towards Harry, taking several Death Eaters down in his path.

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_Draco took a pull from the bottle of whiskey and ran a hand through his hair. He licked his lips and passed the bottle to his lover. He and Harry were sitting in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, sharing a bottle on an uncharacteristic night, free of fighting. Draco smiled as he watched Harry take a gulp. They were on their second bottle, and normally Harry could hold his alcohol, but whiskey never agreed with him on that. _

"_Draco," Harry said, voice slurred, dull eyes blurry with the haze of intoxication._

"_Hmm?" Draco hummed, feeling relaxed and pleasantly tipsy._

"_Don't fall in love with me," Harry said. _

"_What?" Draco snapped in surprise, not expecting such a statement. "What do you mean?"_

_There was an exhale of breath, soft and barely audible. "Just what I said: don't fall in love with me. It will only end badly," Harry replied, taking another gulp of whiskey. Draco snatched the bottle from him, looking at him incredulously._

"_Are you fucking serious? It's a war, Harry; I'm smart enough to know that certain things during a time like this are not wise. Falling in love is at the top," Draco said. _

"_Good, make sure it stays that way. Because when I die, it'll only be you who will get hurt," Harry said simply and rose from his seat, leaving the room without another word. Draco watched him go and tried to suppress the stupid urge to cry. Harry was right, of course. Falling in love now would be stupidity and – even though he didn't think Harry would die – the man was right, that if he did die, it would only hurt Draco in the end. Unless, of course, Draco died also, and then it didn't really matter. The problem?_

_He had already fallen in love with the raven-haired Gryffindor. With a grunt, Draco took a long pull of the whiskey, and then continued to sit there and drink himself into a stupor._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Draco was fighting off another Death Eater, but not just any Death Eater. He was fighting his father, Lucius, who had made his way to stand beside his 'Lord' who was fighting Harry. The backlash of magic from _that_ battle was intense and Draco was astonished either was truthfully still standing. He was determined to be there for Harry, though, and at the first opportunity he hit Lucius with the Killing Curse.

He turned to Harry to be there if need be and looked into green eyes for a brief second. But that brief second was all he needed, and dread soon began to embrace him. The next thing he knew, Draco was being knocked back, away from Harry and Voldemort. His eyes looked towards the pair. He saw a glowing green light, an emerald fire encasing Harry, before his world went black.

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Draco awoke in the hospital several hours later, and was told by Severus Snape that the battle was over, that the _war_ was over. _Potter had done it_, he'd said. But where was Harry? Draco already knew, though, before Severus had even spoken. Severus, after a long silence, had informed him that Harry had died with Voldemort, that they had tried to save him, but they couldn't. Draco had felt numb after that. He had lain in his hospital bed, staring at nothing and Severus had left at his silence. Draco felt cold and empty. Harry was dead. That last look into Harry's eyes – brief, as it was – had said it all. He was going to take out Voldemort, but he was going down with him.

Draco remembered so many conversations with his lover, so many things said that he never gave to much thought to.

_I'm tired Draco, so tired of it all…_

_I can't wait until it's over…_

_I'll be set free when the time comes…_

Draco took a deep shuddering breath and bit his lip. He felt tightness in his chest that was threatening to suffocate him.

_What would you do if I was to die tomorrow?_

Draco laughed, a bitter, hurting laugh, because Harry had known. Harry had planned his death, basically, and all of Draco's words had been useless drivel that didn't even matter. The funny thing was, he was sure Harry had loved him, somewhere inside of that man, Draco was sure Harry had loved him as he loved Harry. Neither had ever said, but Draco was sure the emotion was there.

_What would you do if I was to die tomorrow?_

_What would I do Harry?_ Draco thought, feeling himself breaking little by little. _I'd realize how right you were about loving you. I'd realize how much of a bastard you are – were – for planning your death and leaving me. I'd realize I'm going to break apart and shatter, but I'd probably still love you until my dying day, because you were one of a fucking kind Harry Potter. I love you, you bastard, and you'd better be waiting for me on the other side, Harry._


End file.
